


Fever Dream

by orphan_account



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types
Genre: Despair Disease (Dangan Ronpa), F/M, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Masturbation, Public Humiliation, Sexual Fantasy, Suicidal Thoughts, takes place post dr3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:54:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23282857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “Don’t you wanna have fun before you use your final bullet?”Naegi pauses from his agonizing wails, his need of medication long since forgotten. He blinks before sitting up, staring at the blurred figure of despair itself. His mind was on fire, spears piercing into every inch of his body, the boy feeling so small and helpless that he could fit right into her palm and be crushed into dripping warm blood in seconds with a single move. He couldn’t imagine a worse fate.And that’s what builds a spark of arousal in the delirious boy.
Relationships: Kirigiri Kyoko/Naegi Makoto
Comments: 2
Kudos: 38





	Fever Dream

**Author's Note:**

> That was written by my friend Chill (who didn't want to post this on her main account) - you can see her other works here on ao3 or see her on tumblr here!
> 
> Enjoy :3c

Naegi got sick often, and easily too, so it was no surprise when he had gone out into more freezing temperatures with a lack of a jacket that days later he’d be ill in bed. Sweat cakes the boy’s face, shivering beneath the bundle of blankets he’s set up for himself. He takes in a shaky breath, body trembling as it attempts to regulate its temperature. His head feels like it’s being crushed on either side, walls closing in closer and closer around him, his skull feeling like someone’s taking a jackhammer and pounding on it. With a belligerent groan he extends his arm, his palm met with something stabbing fiery needles into his skin. He squeezes his eyes shut and winces, tightening his grip as he makes a feeble attempt to place the ice pack onto his head.

Just some relief would be a heaven sent, anything to keep his freezing cold limbs and lava filled head to stop reacting in such a horrid way. He’s never felt so out of sync with his own being, his chest rising and falling predominantly with each exaggerated breath. He would much prefer to breathe through his nose were it not for the fact that it was plugged to high heaven, and the sinus medication he took was unfortunately of no aid to him. The back of his head shifts, his hair feeling so damn uncomfortable as it plasters to his skin. Dammit he wishes he could just...shave the back of his head and feel the cool, gentle touch of the pillow against his neck. He pushes that thought away, not wanting any fever induced delusions to make him act out on something less than rational. Naegi releases a sigh, muttering while brushing the hair touching the nape of his neck upwards before laying down, just barely able to feel the soft downy object tingle along the skin.

It was a shame Kyoko was out of town for the time being, something about speaking with Future Foundation. Now, Naegi would’ve told her of his ailment, but...he wouldn’t want to be a burden. Her trip was important! Him having a little cold shouldn’t stop her from going. He knew that if he had said something, that she’d instantly turn around and come to his side. Which, he didn’t mind one bit, but he wasn’t going to let her sacrifice something so integral over the sniffles.

Makoto was trying to rationalize it out in his mind, that his illness wasn’t as bad as the symptoms were making it out to be. A high running fever was far different than any common cold, and with the ice pressed against his temple, perhaps he’ll be able to think more clearly.

He stiffens when he sees a figure out of the corner of his eye.

His heart leaps from his chest, hazel green eyes flitting towards the corner. What the hell was that? It was tall, dark, and humanoid but it had vanished from sight the moment he tried to lay his eyes upon it. He shifts, and much to his discomfort, sits up, the sheets falling into his lap as he props himself on trembling hands. His darkened eyes blink slowly, doing another sweep of the room. Nothing. Maybe it was just his imagination, or his mind playing tricks! He was sick after all, so maybe his vision was going spotty? That...wasn’t reassuring if that was the case.

He contemplates calling Asahina, to see if she’d be available to assist him. Before he can even think about the risk of getting her sick his attention snaps to the edge of the bed, vision a bit obscured given he was in the darkness of his bedroom. His heart races, blood rushing through his veins working overtime to combat this illness he had caught, only to be sidelined by a particularly haunting image.

It was humanoid, settled on their knees and quickly revealing their femme figure with their skirt and bust. Hair tied into twin ponytails rests lazily past her shoulder, and honestly, Makoto’s thankful he can’t see that cold, damning, icy blue stare piercing into his soul, face obscured by the darkness.

“Aw, look at that~!” The chipper valley girl voice forces a squeak out of him, skittering back. He shouts in pain when the back of his head collides with the headboard, a dull thunk echoing in the room and in his skull. “Well jeez Naegs don’t get so worked up over you’re favorite person~”

“Y-You’re not…” Naegi stammers uselessly, his weakened body barely able to move without him being in some kind of excruciating pain. Just lifting a hand to warn the hallucination to stay back was enough to make his stomach turn, the Ultimate Hope’s face paling as he swears he’s going to puke his guts out right then and there.

She merely laughs, one that’s stuck in the dark recesses of his mind for far too long now. That haunting, despairful laugh of pure glee and malice, to see most of his friends dead, to watch him be planted to the grund, moving backwards with an earth shattering shake making his body vibrate with each heavy slam, the image of the giant machine raising up, up, up….

And Makoto’s vision is blinded by hot pink, as if aesthetically pop pleasing acid had been poured onto his face. The heat is brutal, and as his head turns to the ceiling, he screams. The phantom sensation of blood dousing his face, his own feverish sweat caking his face being mistaken for it, causes the boy to lean back. He falls onto the mattress, writhing and screaming and oh god she’s grinning he can see that set of sharp white teeth glinting in the darkness a freshly manicured claw- hand raising up, ready to strike ready to gash his throat open the sensation of claws- a dagger dragging along his throat sends him spiraling.

He clutches the side of his head that feels like it’s seconds away from being crushed, laughter echoing in his head. Of his long dead friends tormenting and taunting him, of the dozens upon hundreds upon thousands of monokuma’s, and of the mastermind’s laugh, the devil herself coming to spirit Naegi away and take advantage of that weak bind.

Fuck, where was his medicine? He needed it! Before it can escalate, before that damned video that destroyed his mind and tainted his pure hope with the littlest inkling of a five second long bout of suicidal despair, he scrambles for the bathroom. Thankfully, the bathroom was connected to him and Kyoko’s bedroom, so it should just be a few easy, shaky steps. He doesn’t get very far, becoming nothing more than a tangle of sprawled limbs as he collapses, pupils turning to pinpricks as his deep breaths become far more rapid and uneven. Tears blind his eyes as he feels something lean over, cold as death as a set of lips brush against his ear.

He trembles as she speaks, the unholiest of things whispered in his ear. Of nightmares, abominations lurking within his dreams ready to snatch him away, all his friends rotting and being punished in the worst way imaginable in the afterlife, every dark, intrusive thought he’s ever had, which have barely occurred, so it was like the hallucination was delicately plucking a string of finely selected pearls from his brain bit by bit. Holding it up, revealing it’s ugly light, before using it against him and crushing it. The whispering grows louder, filling all sides of the room, multiple voices joining in until it all ceases, Junko’s voice isolating itself into a single question.

“Don’t you wanna have fun before you use your final bullet?”

Naegi pauses from his agonizing wails, his need of medication long since forgotten. He blinks before sitting up, staring at the blurred figure of despair itself. His mind was on fire, spears piercing into every inch of his body, the boy feeling so small and helpless that he could fit right into her palm and be crushed into dripping warm blood in seconds with a single move. He couldn’t imagine a worse fate.

And that’s what builds a spark of arousal in the delirious boy.

“Y-Yeah~” He finally admits, lips parting into an unsettling grin with a trail of saliva running down one of the corners. The disturbing sound starts off as a giggle, slowly building up into a crescendo of despair before he’s cackling and clutching the side of his face, his lungs desperately gasping for air in between. Oh but he loved it, he loved how hard his heart was still trying to beat for him, how even his own self was refusing to quit. But his mind, he had sunk back into a despair episode, eyes nothing more than glowing red spirals.

“Really a shame Kyoko isn’t here~” The girl taunts, leaning forward with an eerie smirk. “But if she were, what would you do to her~? I’m sure she’d be more than willing to make you feel better, I know I would Naegi~”

The ill boy vibrates, his tremors becoming far more violent as he awaits for his brain to come up with an answer. “I-I know!” He barks, right eye twitching. “I know I…..kn-know… I’d…” He trails off, his heavy, animalistic breathing turning into a pant, becoming lost in his own fantasies. She’d be wonderful! He’d hold her down and cup her cheek, and he’d convince her to join despair! He’s tried doing that already though. And every time she restrains him….takes away his fun… But how he adores her! The fact that she wants to extend his misery by taking away the mercy of death was so wickedly twisted in of itself that she had no idea what she was doing was more harm than good.

“She’d tell me to stop…” He snorts, nearly bursting into another fit of laughter. He raises his forearm to his brow, wiping sweat from his head, but that barely did much. “But if she were here right now I’d…” He pouts, trying to lean against Enoshima’s shoulder only to fall right onto the mattress, rubbing his face against the sheets. “I miss her, I-I miss her everything~!” His legs cross together, trying desperately to sate the growing arousal pooling in his gut, his member twitching at the thought of his beloved returning home, trying to help him mid-episode, and he’d turn the tables. She’d look wonderful in despair! She’d look wonderful with beautiful, half lidded eyes and full lips wrapped around his-

“K-Kyo-san…~” He murmurs, the thought alone causing even more heat to bloom. He pushes himself back up, sitting on the edge of the bed with his legs slightly parted, finally taking notice of his cock beading pre-cum and demanding some form of attention. He fawns over such an image, wishing that Kyoko would just use him as a submissive slut just like he’d use her for the same reason. His mind feels like it’s melting, nothing left but a pool of white warmth that was such a fine replacement for the blood splattered on his face. He could practically feel it smoothly gliding down his throat, the wonderful taste…

Ah but Kyoko fared far better than any man could, he’s used his tongue so many times to pleasure her heat, to feel her legs tremble between his face before he felt a small burst of fluids douse the inside of his mouth. Those little moans….the screams of adoration. He cries out her name again, tears building in the corners of his eyes at the sight of his weeping length. He turns to his closet, hardly phased by Junko’s sudden disappearance. He slides off the bed, stumbling over to it. It’s a miracle he didn’t collapse as he manages to lean against the door for support. His warm palm contrasts with the cold brass, turning the handle and being met with a neatly arranged set of clothes hanging on coat wires.

It’s not long before that perfect organization is destroyed, the boy needingly tearing down slacks and tees before his warped mind finally spots what he was looking for. He snatches the purple blazer, staggering back as his hands graze over the cloth. He falls backwards onto the bed, positioning himself against the pillow with his legs open once more. He stares down at the article of clothing as if he had just discovered some ancient treasure, the scent of lavender already hitting his nose. That alone sends a low moan to well past his throat, bundling the dark purple object up and pulling it close to his face. She hasn’t worn it in years, but her scent still lingers.

He inhales deeply, eyes fluttering closed as he imagines her presence, her touch ghostly as it trails down his abdomen and just barely gracing along his inner thighs. He lets a “Don’t tease-” slip, despite being alone. She can picture her lavender hair against her frame, a triumphant, almost smug smile on her face, her gaze mirroring his own despaired one. At the phantom sensation of gloved fingers gripping his cock he mewls, bucking his hips upward as he bathes in the lavender scent.

But that wasn’t all. To Makoto’s wonderful luck, he was given something else to indulge in, something utterly irresistible that perhaps even Kyoko didn’t know about.

A-Ah, K-Kyoko….oh fuck, Kyoko-” His moans become more desperate, wishing that he could breathe in the sharp lavender for the rest of his life. Which would be so short if he got his wish, he’d love to be smothered by it, suffocated by it. His face heats up with a deep blush at the very brief thought of her sitting on his face or pressing her chest against it. Kirigiri killing him was something that seemed the farthest and most impossible in his fantasies, but was it?

He recalls the fifth trial, her setting him up to fail, accusing him, what an evil witch! Normally this was something Makoto would never fault her for, and he wouldn’t allow it to impact them negatively given the high strung nature of the killing game and everyone making rather unusual decisions. But...she had come back for him, so it wasn’t if she left him to perish. But now, now he wishes she did! He’d rot away in the garbage and she’d have such a smug satisfaction knowing that there was a decaying corpse lying in a pile of old junk. Better yet, he would’ve loved to see her be the one to smash him into a splatter of broken desk bits and blood, oh god, what that girl probably wouldn’t give to slice open his body and slide her burnt hand in-

His thoughts trail to her hands, the boy intoxicated by the scent.. It’s so soothing, so calming, easily making him able to transition from one fantasy to the next. He thinks of scarring his own hands to impress her, all it would take is the open flame of the stove and he’d be just like her. She’d just dote over such a romantic gesture, wouldn’t she? But why did she conceal such beautiful hands? Sometimes he’d have rather depraved dreams of running his tongue along the rough surface and watch her squirm in delight, but that wasn’t what nearly sent him into a climax.  
  
What had caused his pulsing length to spurt pre-cum was the other scent buried within the lavender. One Kyoko must know she has as well given her time as a detective. He wasn’t sure how to pinpoint the scent, dusty skulls, raw, bloodied meet, the sharp scent of copper, hot pink filling his mind once more as he imagines himself on the floor with his guts splattered open and the lavender haired culprit standing over him with little to no remorse, just a blank slate, as he was a blank slab of meat to her, nothing but a life to be ended and studied.

It was the scent of death, one that vaguely reminded him of Junko Enoshima

Kirigiri carried an aesthetic of gloom everywhere, whether she was aware or not. And that, provided the perfect material for his seething pleasure, his eyes rolling back into his head as his hips snap up wildly. He finally pulls the blazer away, panting deeply as the ache in his abdomen becomes more than stressful, desperately needing to find some form of relief.

He feels a hand glide over his cheek, bright red nails gently gliding over the skin. Death, blood, and bubblegum fill his senses, a heavy weight bearing down on his chest. He opens them, mouth parted open with a smile as the girl of his nightmares returns, the blonde having her breasts pushed right up against his own chest. She stares at him with half lidded eyes, that egotistical smirk still plastered on her face, as if she were admiring her work.

“If I had known this is what a video would do to you, I would’ve done it forever ago~!” She chimes to herself, sittng up and straddling the boy. “But what to do what to do…” She taps a nail to her chin, her lips pursing as she tries to figure out how to destroy the hope beneath her. Then, it clicks, something her devious mind would enjoy to the fullest extent.

She gently grips Makoto’s wrist, guiding it over to the top drawer beside him. Her knowing smile is all it takes before he’s desperately fumbling through the objects inside, his spiraled stare set on the girl. His hand glides over something rubbery and hollow, quick to pull it out. He grins, turning it over. It was oddly decorated, a translucent orange with glitter mixed in. Pretty interesting for a cock sleeve, but incredibly useful nonetheless. He raises the blazer back up to cover his mouth and nose, eyes closing as he takes in another long, deep inhale, her scent filtering into his lungs, into his poisoned mind.

He can't’ help but vibrate at the reaction it gives him, the boy fumbling to match the tip of his cock with the sleeve. Slowly, he slides the toy over his length, gripping it ever so slightly before thrusting, plunging into it little by little. He blinks dizzily, imagining his wife sinking down onto his cock, barely able to handle it before he’d fuck into her, watch her break before his very eyes. He hums, his speed inclining as he takes in another quick breath, barely paying attention to Junko.

The Ultimate Despair giggles, sitting a few feet away from him at the edge of the bed. She’s settled on his knees, watching the boy shamelessly fuck into something that will never be as good as her or Kyoko. She had managed to get a hold of his phone, the entire scene playing out through a tiny phone screen, a red button blinking.

“K-Kyo...ko…~” His moans are muffled as he bunches the fabric up, pressing it to his lips and eagerly pounding into the rubber toy. It’s not long before it’s discarded, the pre-cum filled toy’s inside slick with his fluid. He hastily sits up, gripping his pillow. Enoshima hides an elated grin from behind the phone as Makoto positions the soft object on it’s side, his legs settling between either side of it.

Under any other circumstance he’d be flushed with embarrassment over this, but his fever ridden mind mixed with the shattering despair allows him to glide his cock along the downy edge, pinning the pillow and keeping it in place as he fucks against it. It was so smooth, easily being reminded of all the times he glided his dick over her thigh, Kyoko pleading for him to stop winding her up and nearly be on the verge of begging for him to fuck her. His tempo becomes faster, hips jerking shakily against the pillow. His tongue lolls out of his mouth, panting heavily with each thrust.

This doesn’t even compare to Kirigiri’s tight heat, but a good enough substitute nonetheless. He could imagine one killing the other at the last second, blood soaking the sheets with a glass shard embedded in the other’s neck. But, he wouldn’t do that to Kyoko! She was far too gorgeous to die, to be tainted like he is. He wanted her to be preserved, for her to be used over and over until she broke. But breaking her would be bad, right? He’d love to see the look on her face when his cock makes her strong mind snap though. 

He cups a hand over his mouth, feeling his gorge rise, something boiling in the pit of his abdomen. His thrusts come to a shaky slow, and for a moment, he swears he’s about to vomit from overworking himself.

Instead a loud cry of pleasure befalls him as thick ropes of cum shoot out, splattering over parts of the pillow and Kyoko’s old blazer. He huffs, nearly fainting from the hot, white light he just experienced, whispering Kyoko’s name over and over, as if she’d materialize before him if he said it enough.

“What a show you put on there eggy-kun~” Junko chirps, stopping the record button. She carelessly tosses his phone over to him, realizing that her fun was almost over. Just one more little bit of crushing despair to wring out, just one more moment of pressing her heel against his face and into the dirt and she’d very well leave her alone. “I don’t think such a good job deserves to go without praise, wouldn't ya think~?

“M...Mhm….~” He nods lazily, his consciousness flickering in and out.

“Then why’re you just sitting there~?” He feels a set of delicate hands rest on his shoulders, massaging him for a much needed break. “It’s not fair that people don’t know about how good you are, especially those closest to you~ You don’t want all that cum and loss of brains to go to waste, eh~?”

“N-No,” Naegi smiles once more, his shaky hand reaching for his phone. He swallows back something acidic rising in his throat, and he truly wishes for him to throw up blood to the point where he perishes from blood loss. It’d be so fun for Kyoko to walk in, think he was just sleeping, only to realize hours later that the pungent smell of death had now filled the entire room, matching that pretty little jacket of hers that had been turned into a cumrag.

He scrolls through his contacts, the tip of his coated cock dripping just the slightest bit at the thought of doing something so despicable. It doesn’t take another moment of thought for him to send the video to the entire New Hope’s Peak staff, as well as Future Foundation. He couldn’t wait for his phone to blow up with messages and missed calls, of being told how much of a degenerate he was, or to be praised for putting on a great performance.

He leans back, Junko’s presence finally disappearing as he closes his eyes, his fever most likely reaching its peak. He was going to boil and melt from the inside out, and he’d very well accept such a fate, dying to a measly sickness, how pathetic! His gaze is lined with black dots when he finally succumbs to unconsciousness, the despaired boy happily passing out and hoping to never wake back up

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave lots of nice comments for Chill for writing this beauty UwU


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